We Watermelons piled into Van 2 and headed out of Seattle around noon. We didn’t anticipate starting running until about 6 p.m., and as Runner 11, I likely wouldn’t be on the course until 9. Cue a very leisurely ride to Sandy, OR. Let’s use this time to introduce you to my van-mates.

View from the van on the drive to Oregon.

Runner 7 was the little powerhouse Meghan B. She is from Jersey, she is young (23!), she is confident. Speed honed in youth aside, If her constant smile and can-do attitude is what running competitively in high school and college does for you, then I really hope my daughters continue to run.

Runner 8 was Megan H., also a young’un, also a speedy East-coaster, she writes for Runner’s World and loves the sport. She puts together a lot of the motivational quotes for the RW site, and for good reason–she was very encouraging along the way.

Playing the unfortunate role of Runner 9 was Laura T., a Nuun employee from here in the Atlanta area. She is a rock–a solid runner who attacked all three of her difficult legs and never uttered a word of complaint. She is also so kind and thoughtful–great qualities in a van-mate.

Handing off to me was Runner 10, Lisa M. She is very transparent online so I knew from our Twitter conversations and her blog that she is a genuine, caring person. She also has some knowledge of chronic pain and of injury so for me, she was particularly good to have around as I struggled through the mental and physical strain of doing this race injured.

Runner 11: Yours truly

Our anchor was Devon M., who is just an all-around awesome lady. She is collected and even, and has her head on straight. She is a solid runner, and completely drama-free. Not to mention adorable. I’d like to have a Devon dolly to keep in my pocket just to cheer me up sometimes. 🙂

And let us not forget the fearless Warrior Behind the Wheel: Casey. Nuun CFO and devoted Huskies fan. He drove that 15-passenger van like it was a Miata, and only took out two curbs that we know of.

All the sparkle, none of the drama!

Can I just say how nice it is to have a drama-free van? I’ve been fortunate to have very little van-drama in most of the relays I’ve done, and frankly, I don’t know why anyone would want to create drama. The race hands you enough true, drama–save your energy for that.

About the worst thing that happened along the way was our first trip to Safeway, in which we were denied on our quest to invite Stacy into our van. It’s a relay essential, y’all, and we very nearly did not get them. Luckily all was righted at our next stop and we were pretty much Powered by Stacy for the rest of the relay.

All the Stacy’s

The Nuun bar. All the electrolytes you could desire.

So, here’s the part that tells you how yes, I have a little bit of the sad over being in Van 2. See, Van 2 does not get to go up Mt. Hood. Hence, like half of all Hood-to-Coast-ers, I have no awesome jumping-with-the-mountain-behind-me pics. I get why that is, with traffic going up and down a big ole mountain but if you’ll allow me a moment… *Whine.*

Okay, all done.

We made it to Exchange 6, which was in the parking lot of a Safeway in Sandy. We all got waaaaaay too excited about seeing the Dead Jocks van as we were pulling in. Also, we were cutting it pretty close so we got Meghan all safety-geared up and sent her out on the course to take the slap bracelet baton from Catey.

Look closely and you can see the Dead Jocks van!

Afterward, we gathered everyone who was still there from the Nuun teams together for a picture. Team Lemonade had arrived, all of Watermelon, minus Meghan, was there, and even parts of Nuun’s competitive Team Cherry Limeade were still on site. What I did not realize was that the person who was gathering us for the picture had nothing to do with the teams… except that he is a race director wants a certain member of Team Lemonade to help him promote his race in Oregon. And so, after he’d taken the picture he loudly exulted “Yeah! It’s HOLLY ROBERTS TEAM!!!” and got on the phone to… tell someone he’d been successful in finding her? Who knows, but it was funny. Holly told us what was going on and we giggled and giggled. Since she was so mortified, and since I am just that mean, I pretty much took immediately decided that the #teamhollyroberts needed to became a thing. And so a joke was born. Holly, it was an honor to be on Team Holly Roberts. May it happen again. 🙂

Team Holly Roberts.

Soon after we needed to get on the road to make the next exchange. The two Meg(h)ans are speedy and were on fresh legs. The slap bracelet went from Meghan to Megan to Laura to Lisa and soon I was up. We were pushing it coming into Exchange 10. Dark was coming on, and we stumbled to the exchange not long before Lisa came in.

Lit up for my night run. How cute is the pink Amphipod flower and vest?!?

I was nervous going into this run. Like, nervous to the point that I’d had to really work hard to enjoy the trip up to this point. I will tell you that getting on the plane to Seattle was pretty much one of the most selfish things I’ve ever done. I flat didn’t know if I’d be able to run. I said that know matter what I’d finish the legs–I was not going to let anyone run for me as I’d had to do during Ragnar Chicago. But I didn’t know what price that would come at: Either what I might injure or re-injure, or how much time I’d cost the team. I’d been in a lot of pain during and after Thursday’s Green Lake run. My IT Band is pretty much well, but other parts of my body have been doing a lot of compensating. But my left glute and hamstring were so tight and they were hurting a lot. The top of my right hip has also been acting up, in the form of sharp pain. This is an injury that I’d struggled with in 2012, but which had disappeared after I switched shoes last fall, had suddenly returned about a week before. That said, I do not advocate using a ton of NSAID’s, especially during running. But for this, I took Advil prior to the run, and it got me through. Kisses for you, Advil.

Leg 11 takes you on a paved trail through parts of Portland; mostly industrial. I’m not a huge fan of paved walking trails, as they tend to attract backpack-carrying Hoodie wearers, which is all well and good but who tend to look creepy after dark. Sorry, backpack-carrying hoodie wearers of the world. But there also were several cyclists out there and a lot of runners so it wasn’t too creepy, even though the area was so very industrial. Looking at the satellite of it now, I’m a) glad I didn’t look at the satellite imagery of the area earlier and b) glad I was running it at night or else I’d have been bored looking at the warehouses. The path was traffic-free except where it crossed streets (and the volunteers were pushing the light-change buttons for us) and great to run on, save one thing: The path went by some sort of Food Truck Extravaganza. And yes, it was 9 p.m. and we hadn’t yet eaten dinner. No, I did not stop. Yes, I wanted to.

This run was the best of the three for me, and that ain’t saying much. Everything hurt but I was so, so happy to be out there, and running, and numbed enough by Advil that I could ignore the pain. I came into the exchange happy to be there, happy to be done, and happy to be sending Devon off to finish up our first legs.

Up next in my Leg Two Recap: Don’t Be Cruel, and A Seat at the Table for my Foam Roller.

It was time to get ready for Ragnar, and I was excited. My sister was on our team this year, and she, my husband and I headed into Chicago to meet up with the team. It was good to see our old team members and to meet the new ones (our team captain Marty had the unfortunate role of putting together not one, but two Ragnar teams. That is a HUGE job.)

Truer words were never scrawled across the side of a van.

Our team mascot: a tortoise on fire.

Heh. Things are not always as they appear…

Trampoline shoes and I be-bopped around that night, decorating the vans and having fun. We drove up to Madison and went to bed at a decent hour. The next morning we got up and headed to the start line. It was, as always, a good time. I had a good long wait in store that day–as Runner 12 I did not expect to start until dusk.

Both teams had the same start time so we sent our runners off and our van, Van 2, headed out to Exchange 6. Where we waited… and waited… and waited. I got to meet Megan from Nuun, who has been organizing all our Hood to Coast shenanigans. We got feedback from Van 1, who were having… well, we will call them Navigational Issues. Finally we were up.

Things went pretty smoothly for our first legs. Tim is our captain from last year and became our de facto captain once we started the race, since Marty was on the other team. He is big into support, and so we made sure to see each runner at least once, and we all walked to every exchange to welcome our runner in and send the next out. Trampolines Shoes were excited to make each of those treks with me. Kiss, kiss, trampoline shoes.

My first leg was 6.7 miles, and I can’t let the story of the shoes interfere with me telling you about how utterly bizarre this run was. It is on a trail through with Wisconsin, which was once a rail line but is not a well-maintained recreational trail. Woodlands surround it, but you are often within sight of or even right next to a road. Trampoline shoes and I set off on the leg. It was flat, the sun was setting, and the weather was perfect.

Within the first 1/2 mile, I saw a man on a bike, who we had seen earlier on the course, and who clearly knew what Ragnar was and what we were doing. And yet, on a bike, he should have been far ahead of us at this point. It made me slightly uncomfortable to see him out there still, but I knew there were enough runners coming behind me that he was probably no threat. Around this time, I passed a still pond and happened to notice, among the vegetation, a dead bird floating in it. Ew.

Things would get creepier still. But first, I got passed by a couple of fast dudes, and I hated to be the roadkill, but I was having a good run so I didn’t really care. Nothing I could do about it. Then the bugs attacked. These tiny little gnat/fly/moth things were every where! And drawn to my headlamp, even though the sun had just set and it was still quite light. They swarmed my face and I had a few as an unintentional snack. I put my head down and ran on, wondering if this would last the rest of the leg (it didn’t).

As I came up on a road crossing at mile 3.5 my van was waiting for me. I saw some people and heard my sister yell, “Is that a mermaid I see?” I laughed and yelled back, feeling good and happy.

Mile 4, there was a water stop manned by cheerful volunteers, and then I came to a more wooded area of the trail. That was when I saw a figure headed toward me. A Male. Who was shuffling–no, limping! I turned off my music and pulled my pepper spray off my waistband. And as I got closer, I could see, he was wearing a hoodie, jeans, and a backpack. This was no recreational walker or Ragnar spectator. And while he had every right to be walking this trail, the guy looked… out of place. I passed by him and picked up the pace. As I did so, I also called my husband and put him on speaker. “Hey, I just saw a creepy guy on the trail; I’m fine but wanted someone on the phone just in case. Just stay on the line with me.” I looked back and did not see the man, but did see what appeared to be a male Ragnarian with a headlamp coming up behind me. I got off the phone with my husband and asked the runner, “Is that guy still going the other way?” He said “Yeah I think so,” and went on. I’m sure as a male, he probably didn’t think twice about seeing that guy on the trail, but I’m pretty protective of my person, so I’m glad I had my phone and my pepper spray and my wits about me. (side note: my other plan during a Ragnar, should something happen, is to turn around and run BACK on the course, because there will always be runners behind you, but you may not be able to catch anyone in front of you, and going forward only puts you further away from safe people. Learned this from Caroline.)

Okay, so are you ready for the next part? About a quarter mile later, I saw something else. From a distance, I could tell only that it was dark and inanimate. As I got closer, I saw, on this tree-lined, beautiful recreational trail that so deftly showcases Wisconsin’s early-summer beauty… a black rolling office chair. With an old computer monitor sitting atop it. And it occurred to me: I am not running a Ragnar. I’m being Punk’d. I’m starring in a David Lynch movie.Something. Because it was all too bizarre. I would’ve stopped to take a picture, but I really just wanted to be back around people at that point.

It was newly dark by the time I got to Exchange 12, and the place was ablaze in headlamps and headlights. I got passed by with about 200 meters to go by two guys who were just flying, and I could not catch them. But I picked up the pace and finished strong, and felt good. I’d just ran my first leg at goal pace and hey, Hoodie Guy hadn’t killed me, so really, what was there to complain about?

I won’t go into all the details of the race from the standpoint of a recap, but there were typical overnight shenanigans: navigating, eating, trying to sleep. Also, a sudden craving for pickles and french fries (which I think calls for a new game: Pregnant, or Ragnarian?), waiting at McDonald’s for coffee at 3AM (new, new game: Out Carouing, or Ragnarian?), and so forth. But overnight, Trampoline Shoes dealt me a blow. Somewhere in that first leg, they’d decided to break up with me. And they wanted to hurt me doing it. As the night wore on, I could feel my right leg get tighter and tighter. “That’s weird,” I thought. I stretched out my leg in the van, tried to get it to loosen up. No dice. It got worse. It felt even worse-worse when I tried to bend it. I had already planned to wear my ASICS for leg 2, and I put them on. I also taped my leg with KT Tape for IT Band, just because it was tight in that area.

The sunrise was prettier than what was to come…

Ah, I was so excited about my second leg. It started on the north side of Racine, Wisconsin, and I was to run along Lake Michigan and into Exchange 24. It was just past sunrise and beside Lake Michigan in a summer sunrise is just one of the prettiest places you can be. I got out at Exchange 23 and got ready to run. My leg was tight. It hurt. Tim remarked that I looked mad (I always look mad if I’m not smiling). I told him I wasn’t mad, but I was worried.

David came into the exchange and I took off. My right leg immediately started barking angrily at me. By .35 miles I had sharp, shooting pain down my right leg. I ran some, walked some, and tried to process what was happening.

Now, I am not fast. Never have been. But I have always, always, been able to go, for forever. I don’t peter out often, and if I do, I can generally take a short break and just keep going. I’m also not a wimp. I’ve delivered two babies–one with a 28 hour labor and one with 7 hours, with no drugs. This leg was 4.7 miles and I could. not. run. it. So when I tell you I was shocked, truly, I was in shock. It came out of nowhere, and in a matter of 8 hours I’d gone from being at one of my strongest, fastest points, to reduced to hobbling.

I made it to .7 miles and I pulled out my phone to call my husband. Before he could even answer, the van happened to turn the corner and pass me. They hit the brakes and tumbled out of the van. “WHAT IS WRONG?” they said, with a mixture of concern and surprise. I looked at them and said, “I can’t run. I can’t run.” “Get in,” they said. And then they mobilized. My husband popped out of the van and said he’d take the next 2 miles. Off he went. My sister took the last two. I got in the van and tried to shove my anger down inside of me, as it would do not good now.

After my heroes finished up the leg, we had time off for food. We went to a breakfast joint in Kenosha, and while we waited on a table, I foam rolled in an empty lot next door. I still wanted to try to run my next leg. Since I was out of commission, I drove the van, too. We came up with a plan for me to try and take Tim’s shorter 6-mile leg and for him to take leg 36, which is 8 miles.

Foam rolling & waiting for breakfast.

We got to exchange 30 and I went to medical for ice. I foam rolled some more. I tried to stretch. I already suspected that Trampoline Shoes were breaking up with me. Like, over text. So cruel, but I kept them on because the ASICS had been even more painful. I made it a mile into my third leg. It didn’t hurt until the mile mark, but it did hurt, and was getting worse. The van was waiting for me, and David was outside. I gave him the thumbs down, and he came over to take yet another set of miles for me. My sister traded off with him halfway through, and so we finished up my doomed set of Ragnar legs. We headed to the finish line, and I took my medal, even though it is still very hard for me to look at it–I don’t feel like I ran a Ragnar.

Iced and taped at Exchange 30. Trampoline shoes mocking me.

Faking happiness at the Finish Line. Really angry on the inside. (that’s race director Meredith Dalberg in the front–she did an amazing job with the race!)

I haven’t run in Trampoline Shoes since. They seem unfazed by our sudden and tragic breakup, and by the pain they have caused me. Best I can tell, they caused me to rely on my ITBand more than I was ready for. And I’m still paying the price. It is extraordinarily frustrating. I wonder if I’d broken them in more slowly, would it have been better? Or would it have accumulated anyway? I also wonder, since I’m no longer running in those shoes, and have bettered my form, why does it still bother me? I know the MO of the ITBand is: once inflamed, it will stay inflamed for quite some time. While I no longer have active or acute pain, and I can run, I just know it’s not 100% better, either (it gets achy after I run).

So, here’s what I’ve done so far this summer, in no particular order: Cross training with the bike and rowing machine. Active Release Therapy and Fascial Distortion. Chiropractic. Rest. Massage. Form work. Ice. Compression. Some running.

Here’s the plan for now:

1. Do the PT exercises I have found everyday, not to ‘strengthen’ the IT Band, but to strengthen all the other muscles I need to be using in order to not rely on the IT Band.

2. Core work every day.

3. Foam rolling twice a day.

4. Upper body weights three times a week.

5. Swimming 4-5x a week starting next week when I can get back in the pool (I had an ingrown toenail removed last week so I’m forbidden to swim until next week. Yes, this is also a source of frustration.)

6. Sleeping in my compression pants.

7. Icing 3-4 times a day. I am taking another complete rest from running, biking, and rowing for at least two more weeks.

8. Staying far, far away from inflammatory foods. I already avoid wheat and dairy and most processed foods. But I have a sweet tooth and intend to limit, if not cut out, sugar entirely.

The plan above allows me to strengthen what is weak so I can rely much less on the ITBand when I do run, while still maintaining my cardio fitness level. My plan is to be able to complete my miles at Hood to Coast without worry. I think the plan above will allow me to do that. I modified my pace goal online so that I don’t have to worry about pushing the pace at the race. And even if painful, I will push through. Afterward, I am prepared to take another complete rest from running if necessary. I’m not going to push through any sort of training right now, though, and risk Hood to Coast. I’m going to show up happy, healthy(er), and, while possibly somewhat undertrained, ready to do my part to run the race and share the Nuun love.

As for Trampoline Shoes? They are in my closet, buried beneath a pile of other shoes that have not caused me nearly so much grief and pain. But I confess, I sometimes catch a glimpse of them, laying there benignly, looking so pretty with their wings on, and I think, “What if?” Deep down, I still love them. I still miss what we had together: speed. lightness. happiness. They were cruel in the end, but for a time, they were…perfection.

2. I adore an organized race, and I’m not sure I’ve been to one that was more organized. A+++, Soldier Field 10-miler.

3. I don’t know how you Chicago people run on concrete all the time. By mile three I was like:

And they still are! Your running surfaces may be flat, but man they beat up my legs. Last year I got shin splints after being here for two weeks and running a lot. Imma have to find some trails to run.

Back to the race:

My sister, brother-in-law and I went into the city Friday afternoon. We hit packet pickup at Fleet Feet. This was a pain to get to, and not worth the trip–will have packet mailed if we do this race again.

We ate an early dinner at the Lincoln Park Whole Foods. I know, I know, we’re in an awesome food city and ate at WF. But! This store has awesome smoked meats and tons of vegetables, so it’s a very safe pre-race choice, as opposed to eating, say, Chicago-style pizza or a hot dog. I had smoked chicken and a baked potato with broccoli. Delicious. We also got our breakfast goodies. Oh, and some fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies because I like to have a simple dessert before a race. It’s the little things, right?

Baked Potato. With Broccoli. And BACON.

Made a quick trip to Niketown.

We went back to the hotel and got to bed about 8:30 and got up at 4:30. If this isn’t your race-day alarm ring tone, well, I don’t know what’s wrong with you:

I got dressed and went down to check the weather. It was pretty perfect–about 48 degrees or so. I grabbed coffee for my BIL and me and headed back up. We finished getting ready (breakfast: Cherry Limeade Nuun, miniature whole wheat bagel, and honey roasted peanut butter) and headed to the race at 5:40. We wanted to be in the garage at Soldier Field by 6 AM because I figured there’d be a rush about then. Parking was organized, and there were portapotties in the parking garage. Genius. In fact, everything was so organized that we had some time to kill. Goofy pictures in front of Soldier Field? Check. Another portapotty trip? Check. Try to find friends who apparently hadn’t arrived yet, eat a banana, shiver in the cold? Check, check, check.

Goofiness.

Finally it was nearing 6:45 and time for me to be in my corral. I said goodbye to Lesley and Clay and got in place. There was a really lovely pre-race ceremony that included a lot of thankfulness for the soldiers that have sacrificed everything for our country, and a beautiful rendition of Taps. I hadn’t made the Memorial Day weekend/Soldier Field connection before then–duh, Lindsay. I’m sure what was happening on stage was very touching; it was touching even where I was, where I could only hear what was going on.

Soon enough the race had started and we were moving toward the start. I was in corral 7 and we crossed the start around 7:20. They do a really nice job of keeping the runners spaced. There’s plenty of room on the south-bound part of the course, but coming back north, on the trail, there’s not as much room, but it was never crowded.

In the first mile, it was still hard to maneuver, and there is a good long portion where you are running underneath McCormick Place. Here, it is dark and you really need to concentrate on not losing your footing because the road is not perfect. I lost satellite reception, but knew my clock was still running, so I didn’t stress out. But if you run this in the future–update your software. My sister has an older Garmin and she never updates the software, and even her clock didn’t work under there–her actual chip time was a full 4 minutes slower than her Garmin time because her Garmin basically shut off in the tunnel.

We got out of the tunnel and I found a bunny to pace off of. We were maintaining a pretty even 8:40 pace for miles 2-4 and she stayed just ahead of me. I’d lose her and find her again, and while I knew I might not be able to maintain the pace when we headed north and into the wind, this was no an un-do-able pace, either. This was the point at which my shins started to hurt, and I spent some time being surprised at how quickly that had happened.

So, here’s the stupid-ish thing I did for this race. I didn’t even think about race nutrition until the day before, and I grabbed some Jelly Belly Sport Beans I’d gotten at the factory in Kenosha earlier this month. I’ve never used Sport Beans before. But I knew they’d at least keep my blood sugar from dipping, and they probably wouldn’t give me any GI issues I couldn’t run through. And they did just what I predicted: blood sugar stayed up, and my stomach was a mess. I have a new theory: my stomach doesn’t like things with added vitamins in them. When I trained for Myrtle Beach, with the Trader Joe’s stroopwaffels, which are literally just little cookies, I was fine. But when you start throwing gels, shots, blocks, beans in there that have vitamins, my stomach rebels. My stomach doesn’t like regular vitamins that I take without food, and it sure doesn’t seem to like them when I’m running. But again, nothing I couldn’t run through, so onward we went.

I found my pacer bunny at the aid station near mile 7. She had 2 cups of water in her hand, and some Gatorade. I never saw her again, so I’m not sure if she petered out or what. It was definitely harder running into the wind in the second half, but not terrible. And there was the skyline to look at. Just after that, there was the only real hill on the course, and so the Alexi Pappas in my head said “You know this hill!” and I attacked it.

At mile 8.5 I was in the mood to be done, so I started picking people to take down. Matchy-matchy Lululemon outfit? You’re gone! Fishtail braid girl? Goodbye! Other fishtail-braid girl? Later! I finally came on a young woman with a ponytail, and passed her. Then she passed me. Then we finally ran side-by-side as we came into the final stretch beside Soldier Field. We went through the tunnel and when we came out on the field, I waved her on, and we both sped up and crossed the line. I also totally forgot to look for myself on the Jumbotron. Oh, well.

I got my medal, my food, and found Clay. He had my bag with a change of clothes so I got warm(er) and we waited for Lesley to come in. We used the Find My Friends app on our phones to track Lesley–this is a great tool if you are tracking someone at a race. We made a lot of noise for her when she came in, and then collected her, too.

Getting our medals.

Clockwise from left: Medal, the field, Lesley and me, the finish.

Afterward, I got to see Jenny and Chrisy, who are the ones who hooked me up with my Ragnar Chicago team last year, and we also went to a little after-party with our actual teammates.

With Chrisy and Jenny.

Not a Chicago dog, but really delicious after a race.

Can’t say enough good things about this race. Very organized, and lots of fun. I also like the 10-mile distance a lot. For the record, my A goal, back when I was hopeful for a flawless training schedule, was 1:25, my B goal was 1:30 and my “Hey, my foot hurts” C Goal was 1:35. My official time was 1:29:47, so I’m fine with that. It was a solid training run for Ragnar Chicago, my foot didn’t hurt (!!!!!), and it was a good reminder that I need to baby my shins while I’m here.

Okay, now that we have that out of the way, let me start by saying that the Brunch Run was everything I wanted it to be. It was so low-key, but well-organized. It felt like a small-town race (450 runners), but in the middle of the big-name greenspace (Piedmont Park) in a major metropolitan area (Atlanta, of course). The start line was scrawled on the pavement and the course volunteers were (among others) the race directors themselves. At the end, most everyone stayed and lounged on the grass, enjoying coffee (in our new race mugs!) and breakfast, and even moving en masse to participate in the awards ceremony and raffle. That doesn’t happen at the races I’m used to in Atlanta. It was really the perfect start to a spring morning. I definitely want to be back for it next year.

So, the recap.

My sister’s registration to the race was my gift to her for her 40th birthday. She and my BIL were running, and Katie agreed to pace me to a PR. That left my husband watching the kids–not a big deal since we were in a park and they were pretty happy just running around. We met up with Melissa from My Peach Life, who warmed up with us and hung out with us afterward.

My sister and me before the race–she actually cut her 5k time by a full five minutes since November, through training and a major diet overhaul. Not a bad way to start a birthday!

Melissa and me trying to figure out which camera to smile for. So much paparazzi when you are a blogger! 😉

There. Got the right one this time.

Katie and I headed to the start line, and an a capella group from Emory sang the National Anthem. It was one of the most beautiful renditions I’ve heard–I don’t normally get emotional at the National Anthem but I actually got a tiny bit verklempt. Didn’t last long, though, because we were off.

Oh, were we off. The plan was 8:22, 8:15, 8:10 for our miles, with a push at the end. But we also talked about being a little more aggressive. Well, I was all excited like a new little runner bunny and I went out waaaay too fast. I will say, I felt great the first mile. Stupid, stupid. Never run faster when you’re feeling great. Never run that much faster than The Plan.

I realized this at 1.5 miles when, as predicted, I wanted to die. Everything in me felt tense. I was pretty sure by this point that my goal (25:xx) had slipped away. My hip flexors were very tight, but I was expending a lot of mental energy telling my shoulders to come down from ear-level, and I even felt tension, more than the usual amount of tension, in my core. My legs just felt slow and sad. Katie named a couple of people to pick off in front of us, and so we did. Finally as we came into the last mile she picked one more woman for us to pick off, but I just couldn’t do it. Katie told me to dig, but I didn’t have the energy to tell her I felt like I already was. By the time the last song on my playlist came on, I was getting the tunnel vision that I get when my blood sugar is low. I could tell we would even be tight to make it for a PR (sub 26:59). The last .25 was uphill but I managed to push it for the last .1.

Official time was 26:32, which is a PR by 27 seconds. As many have said, “It is always good when you can run faster than you have ever run before.” That is true, and I’m trying to remind myself of that.

Here’s the thing: I could blame not making my original A goal (sub 25), and my revised B goal (sub 26) on a lot of things: it was hot, I didn’t stretch out my hip flexors, I needed sugar, blah blah blah.

But the truth is, I got the PR that I trained for. I haven’t been training like I should. I took a lot of time off real training after the marathon. I couldn’t decide if this 5k, the Soldier Field 10-miler, or Ragnar Chicago was my goal race, so I just didn’t really train hard for any of them. My mileage has been low. I haven’t been to the track since March. I did do speed work but it was on the treadmill and was a bit haphazard.

I’m glad for the PR but I’m more thankful for the good kick in the pants for my training. The Summer of Speed is here. If you need me, you can find me at the track.

Katie and Me coming in to the finish. So thankful for her, and for my kids cheering us on, in the foreground.

coffee, breakfast burrito, my foot.

GIVE US ALL THE COFFEE AND BREAKFAST FOODSTUFFS

I never see big groups hang out for awards like this. Such a cool event.

Did you know I do more than run? I love to cook so here’s a pic of what I made my sister for dinner that night: filet with herb butter, roasted asparagus, watermelon-tomato salad with chili vinaigrette, and berries, goat cheese, and balsamic on field greens. Happy birthday to my sister!

Tomorrow I’m off to the Brunch Run to A) Eat bacon and B) Acquire a new PR. My original goal was to break 25 minutes, but I honestly have not put the work in to do that. Of that, I am not proud.

However, sub-26 (a big PR) is certainly within my grasp. Katie has even agreed to pace me through it. Now, I just have to want this PR pretty bad. How bad?

Bad enough to focus.

Bad enough to hurt.

Bad enough to puke.

That’s right. I’m finally coming to terms with the fact that 5k’s are just… always… hard. And in the words of my friend Tim, you really should be hurting within two minutes of starting one. So, I’m readying myself for a goal that is in reach, with a high level of discomfort. I’m not saying puking is definitely in the cards tomorrow. I’m just saying I need to be prepared for the possibility if this is actually a goal I want to achieve, and if, frankly, I want to continue to better my 5k times (which I really, really do).

And so, I present to you my Prepare to Puke Playlist. It’s approximately 26:45 so it should get me well over the finish line, possibly even providing some musical accompaniment for the predicted wretching.

1. Where the Streets Have No Name, U2. There’s no better tune to get you pumped up for the start of a race. It’s epic. EPIC I SAY.

3. Everybody Have Fun Tonight, Wang Cheung. This one makes my feet move, and I think there’s something there in the subtle irony of talking about having fun when I’m already hurting at mile 1.5.

4. Stayin’ Alive, The Bee Gees. By this point I suspect I shall want to lay down and die. This song will be motivation to… you got it… stay alive. Stay in my race.

5. Good Time, Owl City. This one always makes me think of Ragnar, which are the fun races I reward myself with after all the hard work of the rest of the year. It makes me smile and think happy thoughts. I’m hoping it will distract me from the pain.

6. My Body, Young the Giant. I’m late to the party on this song, as I just discovered it a couple of weeks ago. (Shout out to Jenny and Andrea, who introduced me to this song through their NuunHood to Coast videos.) It’s perfect for an end-of-race push–“My body tells me nooooooooo! But! I won’t quit! ‘Cause I want more!!!”

So, that’s my playlist for tomorrow. If you need puke-preparation, feel free to use these songs. Wish me luck. And at least if I puke, there’ll be more room for bacon, right? Right?

Note from Lindsay: Yesterday I wrote about my experience spectating, cheering, and pacing my friend Katie’s attempt at a Boston Qualifying time at the Wisconsin Marathon. These are Katie’s thoughts, 48 hours after a disappointing (for her) finish at the race. Anyone who has hit the wall, or who dreads hitting the wall, will find something here that may help you in the future. In her words:

Katie and me before Rock n Roll USA 2012.

In the past 14 months, I have run 3 marathons, (3:57, 3;43, 3:53). In each race, I experienced the same dreaded end-of-race fade. Of course, it was the wall. Everyone talks about the wall. There are so many reasons for hitting the wall: nutritional, physical, mental. But in all my reading and researching and geeking out with other runners, I never bothered to ponder and never bothered to ask the question: “What happens after you hit the wall?” I am not exactly sure where to go from here: could it be that I need to look at a very different pacing strategy? Do I need to look at alternate strategies for fueling? Or does it mean that I am just not capable of a Boston Qualifying performance? Will I forever be wishing that a marathon ended at mile 23?

This past Saturday, I kept such a close eye on running even, easy splits, staying calm, hydrating regularly, fueling early. My dear friends Lindsay and Kristiana even drove the ENTIRE course the day before this race so that I would have an idea of what to expect: hills, road conditions, gravel road portions, stretches of the course which appeared a little more remote and would likely have very little crowd support.

I have to wonder how much of this fade at the end is mental: when I had one mile that was off pace by 15 seconds, I didn’t give up. I can vividly recall wanting to just lie down on the side of the road in the final miles 7 or 8 of the Myrtle Beach marathon in February. My body just felt exhausted, and my feet just hurt.

This time, my feet didn’t hurt, and I certainly didn’t want to lie down. I had one mile where my pace slipped by 15 seconds. I had enough cognitive ability to know that even if I could hold that pace until the end, that I would still have a qualifying time. Easy math: 15 seconds x 5 miles is only a just over a minute slower than I wanted. My mind was sharp and I just hit the gas a little bit more.

But then I turned into the wind, going uphill. And because we had driven the course the day before, I knew very well that I would keep running this direction until just before the finish. The wind wasn’t going to end. I didn’t remember the hill. And when I turned around, it looked like the road I had just climbed up was also going uphill. How could that be? I kept giving myself surges to push faster. I have trained for this.

The mental strength that I gained from the 9 x 1 mile at 30 seconds faster than marathon pace workouts? This is when I needed it. I thought about those workouts. I thought about the 25 miler that ended with a fast finish which I accidentally routed UP a massive Atlanta hill, but still maintained an 8:10 pace. I needed that right now. And then, something just broke inside me. And my legs stopped going as fast as they were. And the pushing that I was doing to keep the pace that was going to get me in a 1:15 slower overall? That effort level was giving me a per mile pace that was 30 seconds off my goal pace, and then 50 seconds off my goal pace. And then I started throwing up.

My friend Lindsay jumped in at mile 23, and I started to vomit more. This was not puke-your-guts-out after a hard track effort vomit; it was a foamy, energy gel spit up.

This happened to me once in Myrtle Beach. I had a bit of vomit in my mouth. But then it didn’t happen again.

But now it kept happening. I slowed down to walk, and each time I started up again, I would throw up some more. I started to feel woozy and dizzy. Later, Lindsay later told me that I was weaving instead of running in a straight path. When Lindsay talked to me, I had trouble answering her, but it wasn’t because I was going so fast. I was able to talk to people a little earlier in the race, at miles 14, 15, and 16, when I was racing at the right pace.

I took some Gatorade from an aid station (I thought that maybe I needed some more electrolytes) at some point during after mile 23, and it came right back up a few minutes later.

At some point I thought: “what if I really hurt myself trying to do this?”. And instead of vomiting and running the whole thing in, I just slowed to a walking pace for the last mile, and ran in the last 0.2.

It is hard for me to not feel really disappointed right now, especially because I just felt so strong and ready. I didn’t hit the wall so tragically during training in the 23 and 25 milers. I felt a little exhausted towards the end of those, but I was able to push through that and really finish strong. But during all those training runs, I had to take breaks for stoplights, and to refill my water bottles. I wonder if these little breaks in running allowed me recover just enough to not have a big bonk at the end.

My husband asked me how I was feeling, and I told him I felt devastated and ashamed. He told me that I had every right to feel sad, maybe even devastated, but not for long. And I had no right to feel ashamed.

It is easy to get caught up in the concept that if you put in the work, you will always get results. But, that is not always the case. That is why you show up on race day and race, instead of just being handed a medal. And the marathon is, in its simplest form, a beast that is not easy to tame. Every time you toe the line at a marathon, the possibility of failure looms large. No one is guaranteed a great day of racing, fueling, hydrating, pacing, staying mentally focused. It is a challenge.

No, I am not ashamed. I did take a risk. My day was not Saturday. While I was at the medical tent being checked over (I am sincerely thankful for having such loving friends at the finish line to propel my stumbling self over to medical) I looked Kristiana and Lindsay in the eye and said my typical refrain about 10 minutes after finishing a marathon: “I am never, ever (!!) doing one of these again!”.

But the lure of qualifying for Boston is there for me. It’s a goal that I have talked about in front my children, my friends, my parents. I can’t just walk away after a measly two tries. What sort of example does that set to them? How does that affect my own self esteem?

It may be another year or more, but I will come back to this goal. I’ll spend some time laying down an even stronger base of fitness before I begin another marathon training cycle. I also need to spend time building up all the other things that began to be neglected. My family needs me to step out of the season of marathon training and come back to a more attentive, present state in our home. There is, after all, a race we are all running that needs a lot more endurance than the one I ran on Saturday.

This marks the first time in three years that I attended the Wisconsin Marathon but didn’t run it (the half, anyway). Back in January, I had decided to forego it in lieu of running the Soldier Field 10-miler in late May, with my sister and Kristiana. I knew I’d miss it but figured I’d deal. However, after my dear friend Katie narrowly missed qualifying for Boston in February at Myrtle Beach, it came up again as an option for another try for her, and ended up being the race she decided on. Since I know the course (half of it, anyway) and the area, and since I love a good runcation, I quickly volunteered to go with her for race support, and to drag Kristiana (who got me into running in the first place) along for the ride.

We flew into Chicago on Friday morning and picked up Kristiana at her (amazing, 39th floor) place before heading straight for Kenosha. I was super duper (hi, i’m in 3rd grade) excited to show Katie so much of the Upper Midwest that I adore so we immediately started packing everything we could into the trip. We stopped first at the Lake Forest Oasis, because they just don’t build large rest stop/gas station/Starbucks combos over the interstate in Georgia. I went with a risky choice for lunch–chicken kebabs from a no-name Greek place and enjoyed them with a view of… cars.

Katie and Jake

The Blues Brothers and Me.

Chicago was dreary Friday. But still beautiful.

Kebabs. On the Interstate.

We crossed the border into Wisconsin and headed toward packet pickup. Just off the interstate, we saw the Jelly Belly factory and store and stopped in to get goodies for children: Jelly-Belly Uno games and toasted marshmallow jelly beans. I also picked up some very strangely colored “Irregular” Jelly Belly Sport Beans for a little bit of nothing. Jelly beans. This trip was already going well.

Tourists. Jelly Belly Tourists.

Jelly beans

Packet pickup for this thing was short and sweet, one of the things I love about this race. It took about 7 minutes total. Then we drove the course, so Katie would know what to expect, and since I wanted to see the other half of it. After that, it was off to the hotel to settle in and get dinner. We ate at the restaurant in our hotel, The Chancery, which is a local chain that has a lot of Wisconsin specialties–five cheese French onion soup, cheese curds, and lots of beef. Kristiana and I both got a grass-fed Angus burger, no bun, with sweet potato tots, and man, it was good. Katie got -shocker- pasta, and should you choose to eat at The Chancery before this race, you should know that the portion sizes are smallish, so order a large. After dinner we hit up Walgreens for some toiletries and poster board and then went back to get Katie race-ready. I snuck in my mile to continue my run streak, made some signs, and then put Katie’s name on her shirt with KT Tape so she’d have support when Kristiana and I weren’t around. Then it was lights out in preparation for a 5AM wakeup call.

The race was on May 4th. Get it?

The next morning went smoothly and we were at the race start by 6:20. Katie warmed up and Kristiana and I found Kim, who is a fellow Nuun Hood to Coast teammate this year. She was ready to go for a PR in the 1/2 marathon but sweetly met up with me and we had a few minutes to chat. I loved getting to meet another of the ladies that I’ll be running with in August.

Kim and me! Next time I see her we’ll be ready to run HTC!

Soon it was time for Katie to get in her corral and we walked her toward the start. The race lets people wearing cheese-related apparel into the first “corral” (truth be told, there are no corrals in this race, just a self-seeded start) and so it was fun to get a chance to see that, for once, since I wasn’t lined up behind them. After a moment of silence for Boston, a round of applause for the first-responders, and the National Anthem, they were off. I started my Garmin as I watched Katie cross the mats, rang the cowbell a few times, and then headed for the Harborside Coffeehouse. With a 7AM start in May, it was pretty chilly at the start, and coffee is always good. Plus, the coffee shop sits at the 4.5-mile and 11-mile mark for both the 1/2 and the full, so it’s a great place to cheer without having to be terribly mobile.

Cheese runners.

That’s Katie in fluorescent yellow hat the middle of the picture.

The view of the lake near the coffeehouse.

We got coffee and watched the leaders go by. Actor Mark Ruffalo is from Kenosha, and his brother Andy is usually in the top two finishers for the Wisconsin Marathon Half. So if you’re watching the leaders in the race, you get to see the sibling of a famous person. Hey, hey!

Soon it was 7:30 and we went outside to watch for Katie. She came through looking strong and we held up our signs and yelled and yelled. Then we kept cheering for a bit, until we saw my friend Angie come by, and Kim too. We had made double-sided signs–one side just for Katie and the other for everyone else, and so we spread some good cheer around until we got cold and holed up in the coffeeshop again.

Kristiana and I had a few minutes to visit before Katie came back through at mile 11. She was perfectly on pace, looking strong and as happy as I’ve seen her look when she’s focused (one of her great strengths is race focus, in my opinion). After she passed, Kristiana and I headed to the car to shed some layers since we both had some running of our own to do. Kristiana is in the early stages of planning for the Paris 10-miler (illness set aside her plans to do Soldier Field, unfortunately) and was going to do 5 miles before heading to the finish to watch for Katie. My job, was to get myself to mile 23 to try and run Katie in the last part of the race. I say try because her planned pace (8:15) would mean that 3.2 miles would be major PR pace for me. I’d been training for it, but I was nervous.

I used the 3 mile distance between downtown and the 23-mile mark as a nice, long warmup. I’ve run in this part of Wisconsin many times, while visiting friends, running this race, and doing Ragnar Chicago. I just love it. Scenic and flat, and particularly when the weather is nice, there’s just no place nicer.

I got to the mile 23 mark with about 15 minutes to spare so I cheered and yelled for the runners. Saw my friend Tracy’s husband Jon, who I wasn’t expecting and who I’m sure had NO clue who I was, but I hollered for him anyway. ‘Cause that’s what I do!

I saw Katie round the corner about .25 away, and yelled really loud and cheerleader kicked for her. As she came closer I realized my cheering time had taken its toll on my warmup, and that I needed a little head start to work up to her pace. I started to run as she came toward me. My Garmin was not giving me pace info–something about having the time on it run for so long when we weren’t moving at the start seemed to make it not want to give me a pace when I was moving. So I have no real idea how fast I was going. I can run 9:00 miles and 10:00 miles by feel. Faster than 9:00 miles and I don’t really know how fast I’m going. But it seemed like it was taking her longer to get to me than it should have. So I slowed.

She caught me quickly after that but as soon as I saw her, I could tell things were not good. She has agreed to write a blog post about the race that I’ll post later this week. We had not gone but about .5 when she tearfully said, “Not today, Lindsay. Not today.” I am rarely without words but I was not prepared to hear that. That’s how well-trained she was. I’d watched her training logs on Daily Mile. I’d seen her run. There had not been a doubt in my mind that she would get this BQ done. So, I wracked my brain for the right words. I worked on being encouraging to her regarding finishing, without being so over-the-top Pollyanna that she would want to punch me.

The last 3.2 miles were very hard for her. I’m so proud of her for finishing that race. I was very worried about her and honestly wouldn’t have blamed her a bit for walking off that course. Something went wrong, and while that is frustrating, I think the hardest thing for her, and even me, to deal with is that no one is quite sure *what* went wrong. I know that is the nature of the marathon. All the planning and training in the world can’t guarantee a race of that distance will go smoothly.

For better or for worse, we made it to the finish line. I had not planned to cross the finish line with her, but obviously plans changed on a number of levels, and I couldn’t leave her alone. We got her medal, foil, and food, and I took her to Medical. I wasn’t sure if it was necessary, but I have also been close enough to nutrition and dehydration situations to know that I’d feel better if she got checked out before we went on our way that day. I couldn’t return her to her husband and kids broken!

Thankfully, medical cleared her pretty quickly, and she was even smiling about 15 minutes later. There were tears in there, too, but she seemed herself again (make no mistake, unlike baseball, there is ALWAYS crying in the marathon). It’s always cold after this race–the finish line is right up on the lakefront, and the wind can be fierce. We headed toward the car pretty quickly.

Friends nearby in Racine welcomed us into their homes for showers and scones, and then for lunch. We spent the rest of the afternoon with them, and it was relaxing. After loading up the car with Kringle from O & H and cheese curds from the Mars Cheese Castle in Kenosha, we headed back to Chicago. We grabbed dinner from the Lincoln Park Whole Foods–third largest in the country, with far more . We ate and went to bed. I know, it’s a wild life we live.

This pretty much sums up how happy the Wisconsin Marathon makes me.

Cheesiness in front of the Cheese Castle.

Sunday morning Katie and I went for a recovery run by the lake. We shuffled through three miles and then did some good stretching before heading to the ‘burbs to worship with my parents and model the latest in runner fashion: Katie’s compression socks under a maxi-dress combo. It was so good to see my parents. After church we went to Portillo’s to have lunch, and Katie got to have her first Chicago dog. We also made a quick stop by Naperville Running Company, where I found a special-edition Oiselle tee and some cherry-limeade Nuun, while Katie and Kristiana both got fitted for new shoes. I think Katie also got to have some good race analysis with the awesome gentleman fitting her. Thank, NRC!

This shirt is as soft as it is adorable. And that Nuun stuff is pretty good too, you know.

All that was left then was to come home. We’d pretty much done as much stuff as three runners can do in 52 hours or so. The “A” Goal of getting Katie to Boston was not achieved. But the goal of having a great time? That was met in spades. Another runcation success, in the books.